


Into the Darkness

by DeepDisiresLonging



Category: Highlander: The Series, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Battle, Comrades, F/M, Fluff, Highlander Immortals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22204939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepDisiresLonging/pseuds/DeepDisiresLonging
Summary: After his first death, Aleister suddenly finds himself in the Immortal Game. His teacher, Bray Wyatt, instructs him on fighting skills and warns him of what could happen if he is beheaded. Ignoring some of his teacher’s wishes, he falls in love with a Mortal and marries her, only to have their ceremony interrupted by the Swiss Ghost, Cesaro. Choices are laid in front of him. Their outcomes either way could cost him everything.
Relationships: Aleister Black | Tommy End/Zelina Vega | Rosita
Kudos: 5





	Into the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Note: @neversatisfiedgirlfics submitted this Immortals!WWE challenge a while ago to any writer who wanted to participate. I meant to write this ages ago but didn’t get a chance. It was also going to be three chapters long (goodness) and I hopefully got it to work as a one-shot. The longer I put it off, the more it became apparent I couldn’t write anything else until I got this finished. It turned out well, with lots of open strings to anyone who wants to participate in the challenge. Enjoy!

Alkmaar, Netherlands 1781

Storms often accompany change. Their flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder are the first hints that something is about to be reborn. Ideas. Landscape. Life. If rain comes, it cleanses the air and the earth, washing away the grunge. When it doesn’t, change is left to crackle and jolt by itself. And when change has nowhere to go, it finds a vessel.

Pain blossomed in his chest. Aleister Black looked down. The bullet wound was spreading deep red petals across his shirt and cravat. In that instant, he had forgotten why they were dueling in the first place. But his opponent was already walking away as he fell. The ground rushed up to his face, dusting him in moss and the morning’s dew drops.

Darkness came, as he expected.

But he could hear his second and the doctor talking. Like hearing secrets from underwater.

“I’m sorry, Heer Damian. He’s gone.”

“Thank you, sir.”

There was the sound of an exchange of coins. A payment. And then the crisp shock in the air of lightening. He sank deeper until there was nothing to hear but static.

When Aleister opened his eyes, he was surely looking at the ugliest angel in all of heaven.

“For that to be true, you would have to be dead.” The man, for that is all he could be, giggled and leaned back. His dirty woven locks stuck out at odd angles, framing bright eyes older than the dirt that covered him. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a mad marooned pirate. “And you are not dead. You never will be. Well,” he giggled again, softer. “You can die. But maybe you should sit up before I continue.”

Aleister expected it to hurt. Nothing can heal without pain. Yet, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the rickety bed. The room was dark. Smelled dank. His clothes felt stiff, almost starched where they touched his skin. They were clothes he had never worn of a high thread count and highly decorated. As if for his burial- Frantically he checked his chest. No hole. Not even the trace of a wound on his skin. With an arched eye, Aleister retried his voice. “Who… where… what happened to me?”

“You were shot, Monsieur.”

“Thank you.” He ran his fingers over where the wound should have been. “I remember that. But how am I still-“

“Alive? Breathing?”

“Yes-“

“You are Immortal.” A Dutch curse made the man laugh. “Why would I lie to you? But really, les mon amie, you are trying to understand this in the wrong order. Drink this.” He shoved a glass of wine into Aleister’s hand and stood so he could bend at the waist. “I am Bray Wyatt. Another Immortal. I could feel your first death approaching and-“

“My first?” Aleister drained the glass. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“And I knew I had to get you away. Mortals don’t react well to people coming back from the dead.” Wyatt ran to the window, pulling back the curtains and flooding the room with light. “So we must be away. That is the way of our salvation.” Eagerly he pointed out the window to a ship. Aleister took a little comfort in realizing that the sour smell in the room was not from his new companion, but from the harbor and its fish market. “We should move quickly. Already your family is after me because of, ah- pillage de la tombe, graverobbing.”

Aleister stood slowly. “You… broke into my family crypt. For me?”

The man shrugged. “Technically you weren’t sealed in yet. But trust me, waking up in a coffin is not a pleasant experience. The ship leaves in two hours. Eat. Then we depart.”

Four hours later and well on their way to the New World, Aleister was still besieged with questions. Questions he couldn’t ask while surrounded by “mortals.”

“These Mortals,” Wyatt corrected, “must never know about our world. They will not understand it. And they will try to burn you at the stake for it.” He looked away. Aleister could see the memories in his eyes. Today was not the day for that question. They escaped to the prow of the ship, where the spray was rough and the pairs of ears less. “I will teach you what I can. But know this: of the Immortals, before the end of time, there can only be one.”

***

New Orleans was a beautiful city. Cultures danced between one another, warring one second and trading the next. French architecture and language was everywhere, which explained much about Aleister’s guide. He traveled the streets like a prodigal son. Familiar, but long separated.

“How long has it been?”

“Pardon?”

The reborn Dutchman clasped his friend’s shoulders. “We have been here for a year. You have taught me much. I can definitely handle a pistol better than in my past life. I thank you. But you don’t need to carry your burden alone. You have done that long enough.”

Wyatt’s eyes flickered. The sure smile that always tugged at the edge of his lips faltered. “Come with me.”

He led him to the cemetery at the southern edge of town. It had grown since he last was home. And it was overgrown in the oldest parts. Clinging ivy long ago had crawled up the wooden markers, then decayed where the crosses should have been. In some places, stones had been erected in their stead. But they were unnamed. Undated. One life lived on in Wyatt’s memory.

“It was here that I buried a wife.” He cleared his throat. “I had a life with her, for which I am blessed. But the air here is unfriendly. It filled her lungs with a sickness no one could cure. When I buried her, I did it alone. Nobody had enjoyed my companionship in the village except for her. When she was gone, they didn’t want me around. I was run out of town by force. It was then I experienced my first death. My reunion with my wife was stolen from me.” He turned away from the grave with fire in his eyes. Fire… and water.

Aleister reached for his shoulder, choosing to hover instead of following through. “What was her name?” he asked instead.

“Abigail. Her name was Abigail.” Wyatt sniffed and again cleared his voice. “Come. It is not good to reminisce. It will only bring you pain. With this, I also pass onto you another lesson: do not come to know a Mortal. Their lives are fleeting. Even if she had been alive for my first death, I would still have lost her. The pain would still be mine. Don’t do that yourself, les mon amie. Spare your heart.”

“Thank you.”

They clasped hands.

“Come,” Wyatt stepped to leave. “We need to train you in the blade. It is the only way to survive when other Immortals come to call.”

As if summoned by that threat alone, a figure stepped around a far tree. He was unnoticed by the companions. They felt his presence none the less. When they turned to look, he was gone.

“Don’t lose your head,” Wyatt laughed, clapping Aleister on the back. “It is just the wind. A Ghost of this yard. Come.”

***

Gun. Blade. Hand to hand.

As an Immortal, there was only one death to fear: beheading.

“Separating the mind from the soul cannot be reversed. You can be shot, stabbed, anything. The heart will continue to pump your lifeblood through you and heal you fast as light. Your mind knows to do this without needing to be taught.” Wyatt spun and swept his leg under Aleister. The younger man tumbled onto his back. A blade was pressed against this neck. “Separating the thought from the heart will end you. Darkness will swallow you whole, for there is no salvation for us. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Again.”

Every day they fought. When they weren’t sparring, Aleister was learning the other rules of Immortal life. Wyatt took him to the seafront before a storm to learn about the Quickening. To feel the electricity in the air. The sand shifting grain by grain under his feet. To hear the waves crashing against one another in one continuous hush of other senses. And then, when Aleister had every experience burning in his blood, they raced the hurricane rolling in back to town. The Quickening would come when he killed another Immortal.

Immortal battles could not happen on ground hollowed by any peoples. And they could only be between two Immortals. One on one, no outside interference. This would continue until only a few were left, and they would be drawn to one place for a final battle. The Gathering for the ultimate prize. No matter how Aleister asked, Wyatt never told him what repercussions would happen should he ever break these rules. Or what the ultimate prize was.

In those moments, Aleister worried his teacher was holding back.

It was then the figure would show up again. As if he knew Aleister’s doubts. With each glance, more details came into view. A long coat. The tip of a blade sticking out the bottom. Broad shoulders. No hair under the many different types of caps. And piercing eyes. He disappeared before Alister could ever draw his sword.

Wyatt would place his hand over Aleister’s on the pommel. “Not yet, my student. Do not seek battle until introductions are shared. Knowing their name is a strength.”

***

New Orleans, Louisiana 1794

The market was full. Summer had brought a full crop and calm seas for shipping. As such, there was plenty to see in town. The bustle filled the streets. Musicians stood on corners, politicians on boxes, and young women filled the balconies to watch. Shops were full to bursting. Bright fabrics from Europe, spices from the East, and new faces from the ships.

Aleister didn’t see a single farthing’s worth of wares. He only had eyes for the woman a few booths in front of him. Hours ago, Wyatt had wandered off on his own business. The second she stepped into view, he wanted nothing more than to know her name. _Then_ , he told himself, _I can continue without more._

He followed her from the ribbon booth to the one overflowing with books. If she looked back, he turned to a booth a fixed his hat or his vest. Her radiant skin, deep black hair, and bright smile drew him in like a fish to a lure. Finally, he worked up enough courage to speak to her. “Mevrouw, my lady, any one of these books has a world of knowledge in them. But none have the same brilliance as you do in your eyes.”

She laughed. “Well, thank you.” She shared a glance with her taller companion. “Might I have your name, Sir? So that I know who the compliment is from.”

“Black. Aleister Black. And… might I have your name as well? So that I may compliment that as well?”

“Zelina Vega. And this is my friend, Tamina Snuka.”

He gave them both a sweeping bow. “How lucky a day for New Orleans to be full of such beauty.” A rare smile spread across his face while they laughed behind their fans. “Have you been successful in your shopping?”

The taller one tugged on her friend’s hand… and was ignored. “To a degree,” Zelina said. “But you seem to know here better than we do. Perhaps you can assist us with our last few items?”

“I would be delighted.”

Collecting a name had become a walk accompanied by lively conversation. Their every step was being watched. Wyatt saw the exchange and smiled. Across the way, another observer watched and shook his head. They made eye contact.

Wyatt tipped his cap to the Ghost. “Now the game begins.”

That evening, when Aleister returned to their abode with shiny cheeks and that smile still on his face, Wyatt was waiting for him. Instantly, he knew he had been seen. He did his best to act like this hadn’t been the best day of his immortal life. It didn’t work.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

Aleister sighed. “Of course.” He straightened his waistcoat. “But- All I have is her name. And a little polite conversation. It’s nothing.”

Wyatt leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees. “For your sake, I hope so. I wouldn’t wish the pain of that loss on anyone.” He slapped his thighs and stood up. “I recommend you end it. Quickly. But for now, let’s have supper. Can’t have these bodies withering for all eternity, right?” He giggled and headed for the dining room.

All through dinner, Aleister couldn’t get Zelina out of his mind. Raven hair. The smirking smile that toyed at the corner of her mouth. The light that danced in her eyes when she laughed. But the promise of immortal pain dragged at his mind. Was she worth it? The fire and water he had seen in Wyatt’s eyes those years ago shone fresh in his memory. Time is relative to an Immortal. Merely from observation, Aleister had learned that something learned yesterday could hurt several lifetimes later.

He already knew she was worth it.

What is life without connection? Dust to dust. Yet, even dust mites float through the air in sunlight before getting lost under furniture.

Against his teacher’s lessons, he searched out Zelina.

***

“You know what he is.”

“Yes. He told me.”

“I can only guard you so much. In matters of the heart, that is where you will be alone. You know there could come a day when I can’t watch over you. The Game will call. And I will not succumb to the choice between your heart and my life.”

“Are all Watchers this conflicted?”

A pause spread between the women.

“I don’t know.”

“I will miss you. I’m sorry to pull away from the family you have protected for generations.”

The companion sighed. “In some ways it was inevitable. You would leave me in one way or another.” She took her hand. “I promise you, like I have your mothers before you, no matter what life brings, I will watch over your life. Your legacy. Your heirs. For as long as I live. Now go, and say your vows.”

***

“You may kiss your bride.”

The applause went up. Aleister led Zelina out of the parlor and into the hall where the festivities would continue. Some local talents played their instruments with lively tunes. Round and round the newlyweds and their guests danced. One dance right after the other. Filled with joy and delight, the crowd seemed a spinning blurry mass to Aleister. One recurring blur he could not place. It appeared in impossible places. He pushed it from his mind and focused on Zelina’s delight. Between songs, he saw Wyatt standing in one corner or another, languidly praising the dance and the music. The careful alarm in his gaze focused the student on the floating conversations.

“They look well together.”

“She looks happy. Perfect, as a bride should be.”

“And the new husband, he will keep her well. An even match.”

“May they live happily for as long as they both shall live.”

That froze the blood in his veins. He tried to shake it off as the next dance came to an end. It settled, like cold rain soaking into thin garments, into his bones.

“Allow me to congratulate you.” The man belonging to the accented voice held out a hand that Aleister took. “Forgive me for keeping you from the next dance.”

Zelina laughed breathily. “On the contrary, monsieur, thank you. It gives both of us an excuse to catch our breath.” She rested her head on her husband’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

“Oh, no.” Her companion and maid of honor, Tamina, snagged her wrist. “Now it’s time to run.”

A flock of young men from the town rushed from all angles. Tamina barreled through them. If Zelina was caught, and if her slipper was taken, she would have to pay to get it back. The cost wasn’t much. It was just a kiss. But who wants to kiss another man than her husband on her wedding day? She broke into a run, squealing and hiking up her skirts.

The man laughed. “Such a young thing. It seems such a shame to waste youth like hers on someone like you.”

Aleister startled. “What do you mean by that, sir? You, who has not even introduced himself yet.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I yield to that accusation. I am Cesaro. Herr Antonio Cesaro.” Leaning close, out of the hearing range of the guests, he added, “and I am just like you.”

Those broad shoulders. The shine of a head without hair. Eyes that knew more than age could explain.

“You’ve been following me.” Aleister allowed himself to be led to a corner of the room. “Why?”

“Because I’ve needed to warn you. The alliance you’ve made… well. Your teacher is not all he claims.” Cesaro grasped Aleister’s lapels before he could turn away. “Please. At least listen to what I have to say. Listen… before you lose everything. Before your teacher corrupts you any more than he already has.”

“There is nothing you can say, Antonio.” Wyatt stepped into the corner. The arrival of a third body brought attention to the group and their conversation. “If you have something to say, say it to my face. Not to my student on his wedding day. Really, Antonio,” he giggled, “I had thought better of you. The world’s Swiss Ghost.”

The man was fuming, but his eyes flicked to observe the rising attention. “You showed my happy days no such mercy, Wyatt. I see now that the only evil here is in you. Herr Black, please forgive my intrusion. I will take my leave shortly. But Herr Wyatt…” his lip curled in a snarl. “I will see you tomorrow morning. We have history to discuss and to bury. You know where.”

As the crowd parted for his exit, Zelina slid into Aleister’s side. He held her close. Having explained everything to her after she accepted his proposal, she knew what such a duel actually meant. And where Aleister would be the next morning, instead of traveling with her around Louisiana.

***

The air crackled with change. As the clouds continued to roll in, Cesaro watched the tree line for his opponent. While it was not surprising, a weight settled onto his shoulders. Two shadows had arrived.

“You do not need to be here.”

“I could say the same thing.” Aleister turned to his teacher. His companion. His friend. “This man has been following us for over a decade. And I get the feeling he’s been watching you for almost a century.” He took in the sight of a graveyard. It was the same one Wyatt showed him upon their arrival in New Orleans. If Cesaro knew enough of this location to vaguely name it… then there was much Aleister didn’t know. No matter which way this battle went, he would be forever in the dark. Unless…

The Swiss Ghost called out. “It is time, Wyatt. Herr Black, I see you have come as his second. I remind you, do not break the laws of our kind. Vengeance is hard and swift. You may step in after the quickening, but not before. Do I have your word?”

Aleister found himself unable to answer. Even Wyatt eyed him from the side.

Cesaro drew his blade. “So be it. Wyatt!” He charged.

The battle began. At first, all Aleister could do was watch. It was all he was supposed to do, according to Immortal law. He watched Wyatt stagger away from attack after attack. The skills he had learned from his teacher did not make an immediate appearance. Wyatt did nothing more than to defend himself. No attacks or advances of his own. Not until the first clap of thunder rolled across the sky. The storm was getting closer. In town, Aleister knew, people would be securing their shutters. Shop keepers would be bringing in their goods. He knew they would be terrified of the unnaturalness of it. Threatened by its arrival.

Out here, the storm was not a threat. But a promise.

Wyatt grunted as a blow from Cesaro forced him to one knee. He parried the first swing that would have beheaded him. The second knocked his sword far away, leaving him defenseless. Resigned, Wyatt lowered his head, baring his neck. The Ghost’s blade fell. It clanged against a foreign obtrusion of metal.

“You should have stayed out of this, Herr Black.”

Both men withdrew their weapons from the air hovering over Wyatt’s neck. Aleister helped his teacher to his feet and gently pushed him towards town. “Please. Guard Zelina. If… protect her please.”

They clasped hands. Aleister hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he saw his teacher. He hoped the goodbye kiss he placed on Zelina’s sleeping cheek wasn’t the last either. The teacher nodded and ran off into the trees.

The storm arrived overhead with blinding streaks of lightening.

“Why?” Cesaro readied his blade. “Why do you protect that monster? How can you not know what he is?”

“He is my teacher. He was the first Immortal I met.” Aleister readied his own weapon. “Why should I distrust him when he has done nothing but guide me into this strange life?”

They met in the rainless collision of angry clouds. Aleister had no such reservations in waiting to attack. He’d had plenty of time to observe Cesaro’s style. To quickly come to understand it. The time for learning was passed. Now he would keep the other Immortal on the retreat.

“Bray Wyatt is not to be trusted.” Cesaro parried Aleister’s blows. His brow creased with rising panic. “The world will be at your feet, and then he will tear it down around you.”

“Stop speaking in riddles.” With a grunt, he disarmed his opponent the same way Cesaro had Wyatt. But he gave him room to recover his blade. “What did he ever do to you.”

The men circled one another. If the winds would have obeyed their anger, a hurricane’s eye would have opened above them.

“I had a life after my first death. A good life. Then he swept into town, taking advantage of my people and threatening all of us. When several of us stood against him, he destroyed us.”

“Liar!” Aleister swung out in an anger he didn’t understand. Adrenaline pumped with rage filled his blood. A quickening was going to happen tonight. “You have watched on the outskirts of my new life. You could have warned me ages ago. A ghost has no truth. Only falsehoods in their shadows.”

“He shadowed your steps better than I.” Cesaro found himself backed into a tree. Quickly he ducked out of the way of Aleister’s blade, which left a terrifying chink missing from the bark. “He knew you would fall for Zelina before you did. And he will use her against you.” In another flurry of strikes, Cesaro was disarmed and forced to his knees. “I wish you no harm. And I wish you success against Wyatt. May my death prove my words.”

Moments after Aleister had separated his head from his shoulders, lightning struck his blade. The blood there vaporized. Then the electricity passed into him, shocking his heart into beating so fast he felt paralyzed. He was unable to move beyond holding his arms to the sky. While his body filled with light, his mind filled with darkness. Cesaro’s memories.

_Wyatt striding into an unfamiliar town. His eyes darting this way and that until landing on Cesaro. The nod of acknowledgment._

_Later, fire, blood, chaos. Wyatt giggles outside of a door and knocks lightly. “Let me in,” he says with a smile._

_Leaving the rubble behind him, Wyatt sets off towards the horizon. Smoke rises in his wake. Behind him, Cesaro collapses to his knees in front of a blurry figure. A cry rips from his lungs that makes Wyatt grin._

The Quickening ended, fading in Aleister’s system to a bee-like hum. He fell to his knees.

Zelina.

***

A fire had already engulfed the house. Based on the heat pouring off the structure, it had been burning since the storm arrived. The locals Aleister ran past blamed lightening. But he knew who to blame. Rubble and mud slid under his boots as he came to stop outside the front door. There would be no way for him to pass, but he called out for her anyway.

“Zelina? Zelina!”

“She’s no longer a part of this earth.”

Wyatt stepped out of the smoke. His strange locks were loose, covering half of his face like a mask. The edge of his drawn blade reflected the flames. It had changed since the time of Cesaro’s vision. Giving it more attention, Aleister noted the alternating patterns in the steel. As if it had been forged and re-forged to include new patches of injured steel. He looked down at the Swiss Ghost’s sword in his own hand. It showed similar injuries from the Quickening. 

“I warned you against finding your heart in a Mortal. They bring only pain.” He grinned shallowly. “I have made it my Immortal life’s work to protect young Immortals from enduring this harsh lesson alone. For those who do not heed my teachings… well, their pain is guaranteed one way or another.”

“Monster!” For the second time that night, Aleister surged forward in an attack.

The attack was easily parried. “That is only the second time I’ve been called that. It seems you and Antonio talked quite a bit before his death. How unfortunate.”

The earlier attacks missing from the duel made their appearance. While Aleister had been a great student, his fears reared true in front of him. Wyatt had held back during his lessons. The earlier battle with Cesaro quickly drained his strength. Out skilled, and out powered, Aleister found himself continuously in retreat. At one point, the only way for him to escape a deadly swing was to dart across the burning porch of Zelina’s family home. He could see nothing but the pyre. Smell nothing but smoke. Feel nothing but heat… and fear.

Wyatt was waiting for him on the other side of the porch. The Swiss Ghost’s blade had been tossed into the far grass. Aleister’s blade was slick with his own sweat and shivered in his hands.

“You’ve been my best student. It doesn’t have to end this way. I can forgive you. Let my teachings in. You can be reborn again.”

“Never.”

The malice in Aleister’s voice shot a cloud of wrath across Wyatt’s face.

“So be it. Then the Darkness will take you!”

Overhead, the storm continued to rage, finally giving way to rain. But the building next to them was already too hot. Most raindrops evaporated before reaching their clothes or the ground. They met once again in a clash of steel. Wyatt’s eyes reflected the blaze beside them. Aleister was drenched in despair.

He made one last plea to a being he hadn’t spoken to since leaving the old world. “Lord above, take my Zelina’s soul into your heavenly gates. I am not destined for redemption, but please protect her with the time I could have had. I give myself over to your judgment.”

With one last failed thrust, Aleister fell to his knees.

Cold metal cut through frenzied air and solid bone.

***

It would be easy to walk into the darkness. He was surrounded by it.

“My love, follow me.”

Zelina appeared before him, offering her hand and a smile brighter than the sun. When he accepted it, she gave it a mischievous squeeze. Like the ones she gave him while they would explore the market.

He left the darkness behind him, choosing instead to walk into the light. With his wife. Into the life he wanted, not the one forced upon him.

***

While Wyatt breathed in the last of the quickening, he was being watched.

Tamina Snuka had seen the building burn, had seen Wyatt walked out unscathed. She finally recognized the evil she’d only heard about in stories. Then when Aleister showed up calling for Zelina, she was cut to the quick. She hadn’t been there for Zelina. And she couldn’t be there for her husband. The blade was long buried under grime and dust of misuse.

Long after that fiend had left, Tamina snuck into the back garden. Under the baked rosebush, past the clusters of scorched lavender, after rifling through the ash that remained, she uncovered her old blade. The one she hadn't needed since becoming a Watcher. 

“I will avenge you, Zelina,” she whispered into the dull shine. “And you, Aleister. No one should be betrayed as you have. I will avenge you both.”


End file.
